


Locker room

by gonergone



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonergone/pseuds/gonergone
Summary: Henry has to keep an injured Walt awake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [urami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/urami/gifts).



When Walt woke up, the first thing he saw was Henry looming over him, watching him with a mixture of concern and impatience that Walt had grown _very_ familiar with.

"What happened?" he asked, or tried to, but it came out more as _Whhhhppp?_

Henry sighed. "You took a hard hit. I do not suppose you remember it?"

Walt tried to shake his head, but everything above his neck felt like it was dipped in cement. He raised a hand and felt the edges of the ice pack until Henry batted his fingers away.

"You were complaining about your head. You do not remember?"

Walt wracked his memory. "No." 

"Probably not a good sign," Henry pointed out. 

"Nope." Walt shifted his arms and legs, stopping when his right knee screamed in agony at the tiniest movement. "Shit," he muttered.

"Well said," Henry said, and Walt felt the cold press of a second ice pack gently placed against the knee cap.

"How bad is it?" he asked urgently.

"Swollen," Henry admitted. "I think it will be okay. You have had worse."

There had been rumors about scouts coming to the next game, knowledge that neither of them bothered to mention out loud. 

Walt took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he focused on Henry, realizing for the first time that Henry had taken off his jersey and pads. "Game over?" he asked, slowly.

"Not yet. You went down right after halftime. I thought you would probably not want a doctor, as usual."

"No," Walt agreed. That much he was sure of. 

Henry nodded. "Which is idiotic, by the way."

"Yup," Walt agreed again. Exhaustion was rolling over him in waves. 

"You probably have a concussion."

"Maybe." Probably, according to the throbbing. But it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, either. "I'll be fine." Walt felt around for something to pull himself up with, and realized that Henry had laid him out on the locker room floor. "You gonna help me?"

"No, I do not think so," Henry told him, infuriatingly.

"Thought you were my friend," Walt's eyes narrowed.

"I am your friend," Henry snapped, "but I am not going to help you hurt yourself further. You need to lie still, or I will get Coach to call a doctor."

"If I don't move a little I'm going to pass out," Walt told him. "Probably not a very good idea with a head injury." 

"I will not let you do that," Henry vowed. 

"Not sure how you can stop it," Walt muttered, his eyes threatening to close on him.

Henry managed to sound amused, damn him. "I am sure I will find a way."

"Better find one fast," Walt warned, although he wasn't sure if he actually said most of it out loud. Henry seemed to get the gist of it anyway, because Walt immediately felt a warm hand cup his cheek. 

"You have had much worse injuries than this." Henry's voice was close to his ear. "If you keep playing recklessly, I am sure you will have much worse injuries in the future as well." The words were punctuated by a sharp pain on his earlobe. His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted with Henry's smuggest smile. It took Walt a moment's befuddlement to realize was Henry had bitten him. 

Walt swallowed hard. "I'm not reckless," he told him, with as much dignity as he could muster. "Did you just bite me?"

"I promised I would keep you awake. I assumed you understood that meant by whatever means necessary." 

"Biting me, though?" Walt raised a hand and gestured at him weakly. "I thought the idea was _less_ injury."

"You are right. Perhaps I will try something else next time." Henry cocked his head, studying him. "You must admit that it worked. You are much more awake now."

Walt didn't have a response for that, so he settled for glaring. 

Henry, being Henry, merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

"My head hurts," Walt reminded him.

Henry snorted. "You will live."

"You sound pretty sure about that," Walt mumbled.

"Do I?"

"Which we both know means trouble."

"I am not sure I agree with that assessment." Henry leaned over him, adjusting the ice pack held against his temple. "But I am sure you will be fine, given enough time to recover. You should be able to play next week."

"Good," Walt sighed. His eyes felt too heavy to keep open, so he closed them.

"You would be fine more quickly if you would let a doctor see you."

"Hmm." 

"You can't sleep." Henry's voice was sharp in his ear. 

"Don't bite me," Walt warned. 

"You are not in a position to give orders."

"That's what you think," Walt told him, or tried to. His tongue felt too large in his mouth, and he could feel himself drifting off. He stopped trying to fight it.

It was with a jolt that he felt strong hands shaking his shoulders roughly, and before Walt knew what was happening he felt Henry's warm lips pressed against his.

His eyes flew open, adrenaline flooding his system. He'd spent more time than he would ever have admitted thinking about how Henry's mouth would feel, and none of his imaginings had been close to reality. Henry's lips were softer, his fingers gentle against Walt's cheek, tracing slow circles that in other circumstances Walt thought would be sending pulses directly to his groin. 

When the kiss broke, Henry drew away carefully, his fingers lingering and trailing hear behind them.

Walt swallowed, licking his lips. "Are you trying to give me mouth to mouth?" he joked weakly.

One side of Henry's mouth quirked up. "I have never gotten complaints about my technique before."

"Everyone was just being polite."

Henry seemed to be struggling not to roll his eyes. "I see. Thank you for being honest, at least."

"I'm your friend. 'S my job." 

"As is it my job to keep you awake," Henry agreed. "By any means necessary."

Walt wished he could order his thoughts, because he was aware that something important was on the verge of happening between he and Henry, and that it would be incredibly easy to brush past it and pretend that it never happened for the rest of their lives. And suddenly, that was the last thing Walt wanted, but the moment was so fragile, and his fingers clumsy and incapable of making anything work the way he wanted it to. 

Luckily, Henry had always known him nearly as well as Walt knew himself. When Walt raised his hand to lightly touch Henry's fingers, he could feel the slight jump of them under his hand, and the pause that seemed to lengthen until Henry's hand closed over his. 

Walt took a deep breath. "I think I might need more mouth to mouth," he said hoarsely. "To stay awake."

Henry's eyes searched his face, and whatever he found there must've confirmed something, because he nodded once to himself before leaned forward again. 

The second kiss was more leisurely, Henry's tongue exploring his mouth in a way that didn't leave Walt with any complaints about Henry's technique. He wondered vaguely what it would be like if he didn't have a head injury. 

The wonderful about having Henry for a best friend was that they'd have time to find out. All the time in the world.


End file.
